“But there are, at least, a dozen dead men hanging on the leafless branches; all have fallen victims to Death-wing’s sword, and now hang rotting in the sun.”
“So I have heard! Will you be kind enough to show me the way thither, landlord?” asked Ned, smiling.
“Me! lord bless the lad, I wouldn’t go near that tree for all the gold in England; no one ever comes back alive from that spot.”
“Then I will go alone.”
“Nay, stay!”
“You must not go, Ned,” said Bob. “Why throw yourself in the way of those bloodthirsty scoundrels? If you do go, I must accompany you, and so will your groom, eh Tim?”
“Y-e-e-s!” groaned Tim, who was rubbing his sore bones with a very rueful face. “I don’t mind if I go to the devil, for I’m going there very fast it seems to me.”
With a face flushed with excitement, and eyes sparkling with delight at the prospect of encountering some one of the Skeleton Crew in mortal combat, Wildfire Ned rose from his seat and paced the room.
Before he was perceived Ned left the apartment in a free and easy manner, as if merely going into the back yard.
Bob Bertram never imagined that Ned had any intentions of going forth alone.